


Matriculation

by LorettaFryingPan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dark But Not Relentlessly So, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, blanket warning for caleb's backstory, detailed warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorettaFryingPan/pseuds/LorettaFryingPan
Summary: Scenes from the education of Caleb, Astrid, and Eodwulf.





	Matriculation

**Author's Note:**

> Man, when Liam shared Caleb's backstory, my first thought was "this is some Red Room shit, right here", so I wanted to work with that a bit. This has been a compelling, if difficult, fic to write, and I hope you like it. Maybe "like" isn't the right word, but I hope it gives you something.
> 
> That said, I mentioned in the tags that there are more detailed warnings here, and here's the deal: this fic contains scenes of clearly described torture, abuse, and all of that is centered in the effects of brainwashing. The characters in this story who are being abused do not view it as such and treat it as a casual fact of life, which may be especially upsetting to some. Please do what is best for you.

It was meant to be an example. When one of them failed, wasn’t quick enough to learn a new spell, spoke out of turn, or-gods forbid-embarrassed Trent in front of one of his colleagues, they were punished.

Caleb hadn’t been quick enough on his somatic drills, so to impress upon him the need to sharpen the dexterity in his off hand, Trent quickly and ruthlessly took a hammer to his dominant one.

It hurt, the pain a white-hot fire that chewed up his arm and tore through his thoughts, but Caleb held himself together. This was necessary. He would go back to the others, and they would train harder, and he would not make this mistake twice. Caleb would take this punishment and the three of them, together, would turn it into greater things. It would make them better.

He bore the whole experience and barely made a sound, and when it was done he could see how Trent was impressed with his strength. He even managed to keep his battered hand by his side, resisting the childish impulse to cradle it to his chest.

After he was done, Trent dismissed Caleb, and he walked down the hall to Astrid and Eodwulf. The three of them shared one room in the house, just enough space for three beds, three desks, and three dressers. It was a tiny haven, and as he pulled open the door to step inside the other two were waiting for him. Seated on the edge of Astrid’s bed facing the door, she and Eodwulf had been waiting since Trent led him away. He had been in that same seat many times, waiting for one of the others to return.

There were no words to say, no words that needed to be said, but still Astrid sighed his name softly and pulled Caleb close, while Eodwulf went to retrieve the medic’s kit. Caleb could see the tension in his shoulders, in the white knuckled grip on the wooden box as he brought it over. It never got easier, seeing each other hurt, as much as they knew it was for the best.

Astrid sat against the headboard behind him, pulling him in to lean back against her chest while Eodwulf worked on cleaning the wounds from his punishment. She patted his hair with one hand, gently soothing him with her other arm wrapped around his waist. She continued as Eodwulf knelt beside the bed, cleaned the broken skin and examined the damage. He gently splinted Caleb’s broken fingers, pressing a kiss to each digit when he was done.

“Oh, my darling,” Eodwulf murmured in Zemnian. While outside of their room, they were instructed to speak only Common. Inside, when it was just the three of them, they spoke their mother tongue exclusively.

Caleb leaned forward out of Astrid’s embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of Eodwulf’s head.

“I will be fine, my dearest.”

With one lingering brush over his shoulder, Astrid left the two of them to get changed into her sleeping clothes. Caleb pulled Eodwulf close as best he could and pressed their foreheads together without saying anything, just breathing the same air.

After a moment of quiet comfort they parted, each slowly going through the motions of preparing for sleep, finishing with Caleb and Eodwulf climbing into the same bed.

They had never hidden anything from each other. They had never been able to. They tended each other’s wounds and bathed in close proximity enough times that they knew the shapes of each other’s bodies as well as they knew their own. And even if they’d had separate rooms, their training had bound the three of them so closely together that there was no space for secrets, and even less for shame. He would have been hard pressed to explain it to anyone else, but Caleb had no qualms in lying with Eodwulf here, where it was just the three of them. They were silent as shadows, and it wasn’t as though she was watching.

Likewise, there was no hesitance in Eodwulf’s movements as he pressed Caleb into the pillows, mindful of his hand and the older bruises they both still carried. Caleb had been taught the lesson, but they all had all of them learned.

 

/\/\/\

 

Zadash was maddeningly crowded. The Innerstead Sprawl was aptly named, and Caleb only kept himself from getting completely turned around through the grounding presences of Astrid and Eodwulf beside him. Caleb flexed his hand, recently healed with magic to prevent scarring, and focused on the pull of tendons to tune out the cacophony of people on all sides.

Over his shoulder he could feel the looming Zauberspire, where Trent had gone to tend to some business. He had loosed the three of them on the city, saying that he had been alerted to the presence of dangerous dissidents somewhere near the Pentamarket, and that the three of them were to deal with it.

“Without intervention, these rabble-rousers will kill innocents. You are to find them and lead the guard to them. Do not let any escape. I expect results by the time I am done, or I will be very displeased.”

It hadn’t been easy, but Caleb knew how to be charming enough to get in the door without suspicion, and Astrid could play skittish and weak well enough to get guards down and root out true intentions, while Eodwulf circled around the back to make sure no one snuck away to sound a warning.

The location of the first hideout in hand, it became a race to alert the crownsguard and get to the house quickly enough to not raise suspicion. Eodwulf split up with them to make better time, and they made it all the way to the eastern quarter of the city in what had to be a record pace.

Tucked in an alley, the two of them watched as crownsguard swarmed the first hideout. Over the shouts of alarm and clatter of a scuffle breaking out, Caleb noticed the symbols carved into the doorframe that matched the ones of the first hideout, subtle glyphs that he now knew meant revolution. The rebels they had spoken to operated in cells, to keep potential damage contained. But now that he knew their markings, all the isolation in the world wouldn’t help them.

“Come, there have to be more hiding nearby,” he whispered in Astrid’s ear, pointing out the markings.

He clutched Astrid’s hand and they grinned at each other, high on adrenaline and the thrill of the chase. Eodwulf caught up to them then, laughing breathlessly. He slung an arm around Astrid’s waist and kissed Caleb full on the mouth.

“Didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?” He asked.

“We almost continued the hunt without you,” Caleb replied breezily.

“We certainly can’t have that. But I’m here now. Where to next?”

Grabbing a passing crownsguard, Caleb explained their business and told him to spread the word of what they were doing, and have the Innerstead guards be ready at a moment’s notice.

“We’ll deal with them, you’ll just have to move in and collect.” He didn’t wait for a response.

They ran, then, silent as shadows. Like hounds after a scent, like hawks on the wind, they wove through alleys and byways, before descending on the next cell of dissidents. The good people of the Empire would sleep safer tonight.

 

/\/\/\

 

During their private education, Trent had articulated to them that he expected them to reflect upon not only themselves and their own actions, but upon each other as well. Waiting left a lot of time for such contemplation, and at the moment all of Caleb’s thoughts were focused on Astrid. His love for her was very different from his love for Eodwulf, but no less fierce. She was a part of him, now. It was strange to think how far they’d come, from three strangers who happened to live in the same town.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, holding Eodwulf’s hand and waiting for her to return from her punishment, he racked his brain to think if he’d ever even seen her before, in Blumenthal. She was likely as much of an indoor child as he had been, and Eodwulf as well. When he couldn’t recall her face even in his festival memories, he switched to counting the beat of Eodwulf’s pulse against his palm. One-two. Three-four. Five-six.

It was around two fifty eight-two fifty nine when the door to their room creaked open slowly, and Astrid stepped in. Her long, beautiful hair was tied up and out of the way- presumably to keep it from dripping on the floorboards, as she was soaked nearly to the waist. In the weak lamplight her face was deathly pale, and he could see the blue tinge to her lips.

One of the rebels from Zadash had died while she was interrogating him, accidentally suffocated before he could answer any truly valuable questions. Trent had taken her aside after that, to impress upon her the limits of a mortal body and give her a deeper understanding of how heavy a hand she should, or in this case  _ shouldn’t _ , wield. He was also dissatisfied at the loss of information, but that went without saying.

She closed the door behind her and managed a couple more steps before Caleb was on his feet, catching her in his arms as she coughed violently, trying to expel water and take gasping breaths at the same time.

Caleb rubbed her back, slowly leading her to sit on the edge of the bed. Eodwulf grabbed a bucket and placed it below her, as her coughing became deeper, from lower in her chest. She hunched over on her elbows, spitting up water and gasping breaths that sounded more like sobs. Caleb pressed an ear to her ribs and listened. He could hear rattling still, and thumped her back soundly. A deep, racking cough shook her entire body once, twice, and Caleb clutched her hand as the last of the water came out of her lungs.

“Come on,” Caleb said, once her breathing calmed, “let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

Slowly, gently, they changed her out of the soaking tunic and toweled off her hair, and before long Astrid came back to them. Her voice was rough and the cadence of Zemnian did very little to soften it. Caleb felt every rasp like it was coming out of his own throat.

“We have to be up early tomorrow, you should get some sleep.”

“You need it more than we do, let us take care of you,” Eodwulf quietly replied. He gently brushed out her hair and braided it, kissing her on the head when he was done.

He stayed awake a few hours longer, listening to Astrid cough weakly, and thought  _ this will make us better. It has to. _

 

/\/\/\

 

“There are people,” Trent said to them one evening at the end of lessons, “who wish to meet you. In two weeks time there is to be a ball in the Capital, and I have a few fellows who know of my work and wish to congratulate the exemplary students who are serving our empire so well.”

It was high praise, almost unexpected from Trent’s mouth. Not wishing to show too much pride, they did nothing more in response than nod their heads. Still, the three of them sat somehow straighter in their seats, and Caleb hoped the gleam in their eyes came off as pleased but not arrogant.

“You will be permitted to dance with one another, but I expect you to make an equal effort to ingratiate yourself with the other guests. And above all, you will reflect well upon me. There will be eyes upon you that report directly to the king, so do not disappoint me.”

With a wave of his hand, they were dismissed. Slowly, silently, they filed back to their room.

“Oh, this will be fun!” Astrid said, once the door shut. “It’s been so long since we’ve been out of the cottage, and even longer since a trip to the capital.”

“And Master Ikithon wants to show us off,” Caleb added, “He has been speaking about us, and apparently we’re making him proud!”

It was a heady realization, that enough people had heard about them that their presence would be requested. Trent had told them that upon graduation they would become important members of the Empire and adjutants to the Cerberus Assembly, to think that there were other people anticipating this as well was truly invigorating.

“We’ll have to put on our best showing then,” Eodwulf mused. “Do you think we’ll be given a period in the day to practice our dancing?”

“I can only hope,” Astrid said, pulling him into an impromptu waltz. They spun slowly across the floor and Caleb watched them, climbing onto the bed to give them a little more room to maneuver. They all knew festival dances, but those would hardly be appropriate in the noble halls of Rexxentrum. The waltz was the one true formal dance they could perform, which would likely not be adequate if they were going to display Trent’s excellence as an instructor.

“Come on, Caleb,” Astrid said, twirling out of Eodwulf’s hands and towards him. A smile lit her face, and Caleb felt himself grinning back. “Dance with me!”

He took her hand and stepped close, taking her for a turn across the small floor. The three of them traded around dancing with each other for a little while longer, and Caleb could almost hear the music playing.

 

/\/\/\

 

Trent did grant them time to practice dancing, and to learn new dances as well. But with a week left before the ball, there were still lessons to conduct and not a minute of time could be allowed to go to waste.

Some of the lessons Trent taught were more hands-on than others. Magic could mostly be taught through theory and private practice, history and languages were easy enough to acquire through reading, but there were other skills Trent wanted them to acquire. Skills like outdoor survival. Interrogation.

“The best way to understand something is to endure it,” Trent explained to them, the first time he had conducted one of these lessons. Quietly, in the furthest corner of his thoughts, Caleb wondered how many scars Trent bore, or if they had all been magicked away as well.

He and Astrid were standing at Trent’s elbow in the small room in the cottage’s basement. Eodwulf was seated across from the three of them, bare to the waist and tied down to the single wooden chair in the room. Beside him was a small table with a tray of knives, each of varying sizes, a handful of long needles stuck into a black pincushion, and lengths of fine sinew cords.

“A reminder, before we begin the demonstration. The most critical part of a scenario such as this is the anticipation,” Trent intoned, beginning the lecture. “Before any physical work, one should take a minimum of three days to psychologically prepare the interviewee. However, in a pinch, it is best to simply take your time.”

One by one, he picked up each implement on the table, checking the sharpness of the edge or the taper of the point. The sinew he counted, stretched, and checked the lengths of before gently coiling it back down on the table. Caleb could feel the seconds tick by in his head, stretching out into minutes.

“There is nothing that you can do that will ever hurt more than what your interviewee can imagine. So examine each and every implement you have at your disposal, even if you don’t anticipate using it. Let them do the heavy lifting.”

“Now, we have already been over introductory techniques. Ways to begin sessions. Today, however, we are going to be refining methods for the midpoints.” He picked up one of the smaller knives, a slender-handled blade that looked almost like a scalpel, and stood behind Eodwulf.

“There are several places on the torso that, when cut, yield little more than a swift death--” He pulled a grease pencil out from a pocket and marked small dashes on Eodwulf’s skin. The scalpel glinted in the lamplight as he moved. Marking more, he continued-- “And others still that do not have enough sensitivity to yield appropriate results without employing more severe methods.”

Caleb watched intently, cataloguing every movement in his mind. They had been over these points already in discussions of theory, but seeing them mapped out gave him a deeper perspective.

“However, there are points between the two, where a delicate application of skill yield a pain that is neither too weak to be convincing nor so strong as to dissolve coherence. Let us begin.”

He slid the knife across Eodwulf’s chest, angling the blade just so to carve under and separate the skin from the flesh as well.  Blood welled and quickly ran down Eodwulf’s chest, and Caleb forced himself to focus on the lesson.

There were no questions, as he progressed. Caleb and Astrid watched intently as he worked, and Eodwulf did his best to remain silent and still for the duration of the lesson. Caleb focused on every mark Trent made, but he also noticed the sweat beading on Eodwulf’s brow, and the slow drain of color from his face. Nevertheless, Eodwulf held fast till the end of the demonstration, and Caleb felt no shortage of pride in his strength.

Trent moved between working with the knives and the needles, giving thorough explanation for the detailed applications of each, and how to use them in conjunction. Eodwulf’s blood had just begun to gather in pools on the floor when Trent finished.

The lesson complete, Trent set the last knife meticulously back in the tray. He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Astrid and Caleb to clean up. Astrid fetched the medical kit and Caleb undid the bindings, holding Eodwulf against his chest once he was free. He could feel blood begin to seep into his shirt, but that was of little concern. Eodwulf was shaking, ever so slightly, and had gone clammy and cold.

They had been instructed to be silent in situations like this, so none of them spoke. But once Trent’s footsteps faded down the hallway Caleb cradled the back of Eodwulf’s head and held him tight, pressing kisses to his hair while Astrid began cleaning and binding the wounds. They were all clean cuts- a mercy, even if a particularly small one.

When she was done, Astrid nodded to Caleb and finished cleaning up. Caleb gently took a clean, soft robe and tucked Eodwulf’s arms into it and tied it closed, shushing him gently as the slight movement pulled at the cuts. He wrapped his hand around Eodwulf’s back and reached under his knees to pick him up off the cold stone floor. Eodwulf wasn’t particularly heavy, which was fortunate because Caleb wasn’t particularly strong.

“Not much longer,” he wanted to say, as the three of them left the basement and slowly walked back to their bedroom.

Back safely in the room, Eodwulf wrapped his arms around Caleb’s neck and  _ clung _ , like Caleb was a lifeline. Caleb held back, less tightly out of concern for Eodwulf’s injuries but no less protective. He ran a hand through Eodwulf’s hair and kissed his temple, soothing him until he finally relaxed. Eodwulf didn’t cry, too exhausted even for that, but his breath stuttered and his shoulders shook the whole while.

“You need to rest, come on,” Caleb said, pulling the blankets back on the bed and helping Eodwulf get beneath them.

He kissed along the wrapped lacerations, a silent promise that none of Eodwulf’s pain had been given in vain.

“It is a gift you have given us, this wisdom,” He murmured, kissing from ribs, to sternum, to the hollow of Eodwulf’s throat. “It will go to good use.”

 

/\/\/\

 

The third day after the lesson, there was a healing potion set at Eodwulf’s place when they sat down for breakfast.

“For the remaining marks,” Trent said. “You have to be presentable for the ball.”

It wasn’t just Eodwulf who had to be presentable; all of them needed new outfits and haircuts, and appropriate pieces of jewelry. Such things could only be found in the capital, so Trent sent the three of them to his rooms on the main campus of the Soltryce Academy. There they were to be met by a small group of people hired to make the three of them look their best.

It had been a long time since any of them had been in Rexxentrum without direct supervision. Trent had eyes everywhere so they were not entirely without oversight, but it was easy to maintain the illusion that the three of them were completely alone. For a moment Caleb felt like a child again, riding from his hometown with two relative strangers, off to greater things.

“We’ve come so far,” Astrid said with a smile, when Caleb voiced this thought.

“We’re certainly dressed better now,” Eodwulf said, and Caleb rolled his eyes.

It wasn’t nearly so far a ride as the trip from Blumenthal, however, and it wasn’t long before the carriage came to the main gates of the Soltryce Academy and they were making their way through the now-familiar campus.

The travel through the school was odd. Nothing about the academy itself had changed, but it felt as though Caleb was seeing it with new eyes. The symbols carved into the walls held more meaning now, the colors of the banners rich with arcane significance. He also could quickly identify every entrance and exit in each hall they walked through, as well as the shadowed spots that would become dangerous if the situation were to turn.

But it didn’t, and they weren’t accosted by anyone on the walk to the faculty residences, although the long stares from the other students were obvious. Perhaps they looked now like upperclassmen had looked to him all those years ago; mysterious and powerful, minds turned towards the arcane and no longer shackled on the petty material plane. A part of his pride preened at the thought, and he stood even straighter as they walked to the faculty apartments.

Trent’s quarters at the school were only superficially lived in. There was no dust on anything, but only a few things bore signs of visible use. It was easy enough to clear the center of the room and array the outfits, making it seem more like they were in an oddly decorated shop rather than their master’s living space.

Despite the sheer number of garments, there was very little actual choice given to the three of them beyond the color of the clothes they wore. Astrid chose a burgundy gown, Eodwulf a navy suit, and Caleb chose a charcoal-grey suit for himself.  The fitting was quick, almost brusque, adornments had already been selected to match the clothes, and very quickly they were being shuffled off to the hairdressers. The entire experience took a little under an hour and quickly enough they were at loose ends, waiting in the courtyard for the carriage to return.

Eodwulf sat down gingerly on one of the stone benches, pulling Caleb and Astrid to sit beside him.  

“Do you think we’ll have the graduation ceremony here?” He asked, looping an arm around each of their waists.

“I hope so,” Caleb replied. “it would be nice to come back, if only for a bit.”

“Show our parents around,” Astrid added. “I’d like to show mama the library.”

“Yes, and I think father would like to see the hall of artifacts,” Caleb said.

“Draw us up a map, liebling, so we can get planning,” Eodwulf said, patting Caleb’s knee, the excitement clear in his voice. “We’ll give them a proper tour.”

The carriage trundled up to them after waiting a bit longer, and they climbed inside for the ride back to Trent’s home. They talked more about their plans for graduation, but nothing about what they’d be doing after. That still felt too far away.

 

/\/\/\

 

The day of the ball dawned like any other, although there was an unmistakable tension in the air.

It was “Master Ikithon” in public, which was easy enough to remember. The coachman from the city addressed him as such when the carriage arrived to take the four of them to the ball. They rode in silence for the most part, with Trent occasionally filling them in on the important guests, and who to keep an eye on.

“I expect a full report tomorrow morning,” Trent finished, as the carriage was slowing in the mansion courtyard. “And know that I will be listening to everything that is said about you, as well.”

With that, they made their way inside. Their host was a member of the royal court, and their home was every inch as palatial as such a station would imply. Anything that wasn’t richly painted was gilded, and anything that wasn’t gilded was draped in silks and velvets.

There was still a substantial part of him that worried about sticking out. They were no more than fifty miles from the Zemni Fields, but this house felt like another plane entirely. Amidst all this opulence he felt every inch the poor soldier’s son. He kept his hands at his sides, but felt the quick brush of Eodwulf’s fingers as they walked. At least he wasn’t the only one feeling out of place.

Two massive doors swung inwards to the ballroom, and a servants voice called out their names, announcing Master Ikithon’s presence to the assembled guests.

“Behave,” he said, quiet enough that only the three of them could hear. And with that he was off, gliding into the crowd to conduct whatever business was necessary.

“Well, shall we?” Astrid asked, snaking one hand into Eodwulf’s elbow, and the other into Caleb’s. “I figure we can spend the first bit together, get to know the situation.”

And so they went, following Astrid’s lead and mingling with the crowd as a unit. Introductions moved at a rapid pace. The names and faces ran together, testing even Caleb’s memory.

“So exciting to meet the three of you,” said a general.

“We’ve been wondering when we’d see Ikithon’s protégés,” said an Abjurist from the palace.

“It’s such a treat to have you,” said their hostess, “Have you had the chance to enjoy the dancing?”

This they took as a tacit cue to spread out across the floor. With a quick squeeze to Caleb’s hand, Eodwulf took their hostess for a turn across the floor. With that, he nodded at Astrid and the two of them split up.

He thought of it like their mission in Zadash-divide and conquer.

It was surprisingly easy to mingle with the crowd; the guests were more concerned with themselves, and preening over their station, than interrogating Caleb. Apparently Trent taking on private students was little more than an idle curiosity among the high society of Rexxentrum. There were a few folk from the Cerberus Assembly who were more intrigued, but no one asked any especially deep questions. He took a few lords and ladies to the dance floor; he didn’t make a fool of himself and they seemed to have a good time, so he considered that a major win.

For his own part, Caleb learned a lot about the inner workings of this corner of the Empire. He learned all manner of gossip about who was having affairs with whom, who was falling out of favor with the king, who was a rising star. Nor was it difficult to read between the lines and see people’s sympathies, and the larger game that they were playing.

Having made the rounds, he was wondering what to do next when he spotted Astrid in conversation with the son of a lord from Kamordah. It wasn’t going well. He could see the sharpness in her expression, the slow ebb of her mood as her conversation partner amused her less and less. She would never step so far as to offend him, he knew that, but they were supposed to be on their best behavior, and Trent wouldn’t look kindly on even the slightest frown.

Caleb picked his way through the crowd, keeping his ear open to the chatter around him. The three of them had made something of a splash, what with this being their first time among society since Trent had taken them on as protégés. For all that people weren’t terribly interested in the details of their existence, any new blood in society was cause for gossip. People were discussing alliances already, how best to leverage the potential to get an in with the Assembly at the ground level. He could feel the trailing gazes on his back as he walked over to Astrid, but tried not to let it show.

Easily enough, he got over to the pair of them, standing behind the young lord. He waited for the band to finish their song before interrupting. Leaning around him, he held his hand out to her. Her eyes met his and she perked up a bit, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Miss Astrid, may I have this dance?”

“You certainly may,” she replied, taking his hand.  Turning to her conversation partner, she smiled politely. “Please excuse me.” He nodded, a bit wrong-footed by the sudden change but seemingly not upset. Perhaps merely dismayed that he’d been beaten to the punch.

Caleb led her away onto the polished floor, through throngs of the elegant and idle rich.

“I hope I wasn’t taking you from anything important,” he said under his breath, once sure they were out of earshot.

Astrid rolled her eyes. “That obvious, was I?”

“Not to him, no. But to myself, or Eodwulf-“ He nodded over to where their companion was. “We know you a bit better than that.”

A ways away, Eodwulf was entertaining a small cluster of younger nobility, socialites who were clearly entranced by mages, especially ones as handsome as him.

“You’ll get your chance,” Astrid said, noting where his gaze had caught as they walked over to the floor. “He knows you’re saving the last dance for him.”

Caleb hummed absently, not sure what else to say. She was right, of course. It wasn’t as though he felt any sort of worry over Eodwulf straying or finding someone new, but there was a small, quiet part of him that rankled at the sight. But that was not a train of thought he wanted to stay on, and he could deflect as well as her.

“Speaking of last dance, I feel like there might be a few duels on the horizon over who gets yours. I have heard several young lords and ladies speaking quite admiringly of you.”

Astrid had a facility for dance that was entrancing. Caleb knew all the steps, and could keep time impeccably, but Astrid understood how too embellish it. He could never figure out the formula- when to add in spins, or change things up, but she could weave it all together as easy as breathing. Watching her, it seemed less like she was the one being led, and more like her partners were following her in a daze.

“That would please Master Ikithon, I’m sure,” she said noncommittally, not quite meeting his gaze as they bowed to each other. Well, it seemed they were both avoiding things tonight.

“Don’t make me look too bad,” he murmured, setting his hand on her waist as the band struck up a new tune.

“I won’t, my dear Caleb. On the contrary, in fact, I plan on getting your best foot forward.”

“So droll,” he replied, feeling the tension start to slip away. Astrid smiled, thin as a crescent moon and just as bright.

They turned across the floor, each of them scanning the room as they went. Paradoxically, there was less scrutiny on them here in the center of things than on the fringes amongst the crowd. In the same vein, it was easy for them to converse as well. Astrid leaning in to whisper in his ear was seen as nothing more than coy flirtation.

“Omit Hass is with Master Ikithon,” Astrid murmured.

“The envoy from the King is heading over to speak with them both,” Caleb added, noting the bright gold braid on the man’s cuffs.

Astrid leaned back and Caleb went with her, dipping her so she could get an easier look.

“He seems pleased,” She said when he pulled her back up.

As much as Caleb valued their education, he found himself now longing for graduation. It was all he could want, to be out in the world with Astrid and Eodwulf - his best friend and his dearest love – working to make the Empire a better place and keeping the law. He imagined many balls like this, gathering information and intelligence, then turning loose on the cities and seeking the same among the citizens.

The song ended, and Astrid smiled as Caleb kissed the back of her hand and led her off the floor.

“I think we can sneak a minute or two,” Astrid said, pitching her voice low enough so their neighbors couldn’t hear.

“Quite a gathering,” Caleb said, plucking a pair of glasses from the tray of a passing waiter with a nod of thanks. “It’s hard to believe such things are common occurrences.”

“I’ve met so many marvelous people,” Astrid replied.

The talk was banal, pleasant trivialities that would flatter their host and not raise suspicion. The real conversation was in the quick gestures and subtle quirks of tone.

_ ‘I don’t trust any of this,’ _ Caleb spelled in a raised eyebrow.

_ ‘At least we know who we’re dealing with now,’ _ Astrid tapped against her glass.

_ ‘They’re going to try to use us.’ _

_ ‘Let them.’ _

Caleb hid a smile behind his glass as best he could, trying to play it off like Astrid had said something especially witty. With that, the moment was up, and they both turned to disperse into the crowd. An elderly merchant couple walked past him, and Caleb caught their eye with a smile. Back to the dance.

Eventually, the night began to wind down and it was time for the last few dances. Caleb’s conversation group all dispersed to find partners for the floor, and he just barely managed to dodge a couple requests from young socialites and find his way over to Eodwulf.

It was much the same situation that he found Astrid in; Eodwulf was chatting to some child of a noble, and he was clearly interested in him. Unlike with Astrid, Caleb felt a flare of possessive frustration at the sight.

“Excuse me, if I might cut in,” he said, keeping his smile smooth and turning to Eodwulf.

“I thought you’d never get here,” Eodwulf said, turning to let Caleb into the circle. “Is it time?”

“It is indeed,” Caleb answered, holding his hand out. “May I have this final dance?”

Eodwulf’s smile didn’t so much soften as it  _ deepened _ , filling his eyes with warmth. “You certainly may,” he said, taking Caleb’s hand.

“Forgive me,” Caleb said, to the other person – Kieran, he believed was his name – that Eodwulf had been speaking to. He seemed dismayed, and while Caleb wanted his hands decidedly  _ far _ from Eodwulf it wouldn’t do to leave him unhappy. “If we had more time I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch like this. I’ll owe you a dance for next time, alright? Don’t let me forget.”

He capped it off with a wink, and Kieran flushed, seemingly surprised by the sudden turn of events.

“Oh-okay, sure,” He stuttered. “Sounds like a plan.”

Caleb gave Eodwulf a gentle spin as they settled on the dance floor, much fuller now that it was the end of the night; most of the guests had come out for one last dance. They had to stand much closer, which wasn’t a hardship for either of them.

“A little short on space,” Caleb muttered.

“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” Eodwulf teased, matching Caleb’s posture and slipping his hand to the small of Caleb’s back.

“Feeling a bit bold, are we?” Caleb asked, as Eodwulf’s hand settled. Eodwulf immediately flushed a lovely pink, and it took a great deal of effort to not take Eodwulf’s face in his hands and kiss him right there on the dance floor. As it was, he smiled broadly, moving his hand to keep Eodwulf’s in place.

“Leave it,” he said. It was hardly traditional, but they weren’t the only ones on the floor in such a posture. A lack of space, a long night, and good drink meant that most of the couples were holding closer than would have been considered acceptable. For the first time, the air felt relaxed, like everyone was dancing because they wanted to, not because they were socially obliged.

He pulled Eodwulf even closer and stepped into a slow foxtrot. It was calm, and as close to romantic as they had ever been able to get. There had been a couple practice dances, foxtrots and waltzes in the bedroom where they held each other even closer, but there was a unique magic to these surroundings. The opulence and excess finally seemed to fit, and Caleb understood why these balls were held with such frequency.

Eodwulf rested his head on Caleb’s shoulder, and Caleb’s breath caught; it was the biggest gesture of public affection they’d ever dared take. He let himself take a breath and press Eodwulf against him, enjoy the sweetness for the moments it lasted; the crowd was so dense they were likely difficult to pick out, but there was the ever-present murmur in the back of his head that they were under Trent’s eye. That same murmur was in Eodwulf’s head as well, and slowly his head rose to scan around the room and take stock of their situation.

“I wonder if Astrid chose someone to dance with,” Eodwulf said.

“I don’t see her on the floor,” Caleb said, casting his gaze among the dancers.

“Master Ikithon is with Astrid,” Eodwulf whispered in his ear. “They’re not dancing.”

As they spun, Caleb searched the fringes of the floor for them. He was admittedly quite worried that Trent would take exception to Astrid sitting this dance out; however he seemed genuinely calm about the situation and was conversing with her. Presumably catching up on everything that had happened over the evening, but it was impossible to be sure. Fortunately, it didn’t look like she was in trouble. Nor, for that matter, were they.

That question settled, Caleb relaxed back into the dance. He and Eodwulf both nodded at acquaintances they’d made throughout the night, but truly their eyes were only for each other.

Unfortunately the song couldn’t last forever, and eventually the band wound down and all the dancers stopped. As they all clapped for the musicians who had played tirelessly all night, Caleb murmured to Eodwulf.

“One day we’ll dance like this and there will be no mission. Only you and I.”

“I believe that day will come sooner than you think,” Eodwulf replied with a smile.

With the last song finished, it was time to leave. Trent was keen for them to go before the crowd truly dispersed, and called them to him with a sharp gesture. They thanked their host graciously, and followed Trent out the door. The four of them walked across the courtyard to the carriage in silence, waiting for the verdict on the night.

With a portentous pause as the driver hopped down from the seat and opened the door, Trent turned to them and spoke.

“Well done,” he said. Caleb tried not to grin at what was very high praise, coming from their teacher. “You seem to have acquitted yourself well tonight. I’m very pleased.”

“Thank you, sir,” the three of them chorused in unison.

They climbed into the carriage after him, sitting across from him on the same small bench seat. Closing the door, they rolled over the cobbled yard and onto the smooth street before he spoke again.

“Now,” he said, “tell me what you have learned.”

 

/\/\/\

 

The ride back was long, but full. The three of them expounded on everyone they had met; their occupations, relative rank, the details of their lives and apparent sympathies. Trent listened attentively, asking occasional questions about particular details, but for the most part sat in silence and let them speak. They had taken care to spread out through the crowd to cover as many people as possible, and Caleb could see that Trent was pleased at the lack of overlap in their information.

At last when they were done, he nodded, seemingly content.

“Quite a comprehensive read of the room,” he said. “What do you think they make of you?”

Questions like these were the hardest, and the most dangerous to get wrong.

“They seem less concerned with why we were there, and more interested in what we could do for them,” Caleb dared. “I heard several people speaking of being able to influence the Cerberus Assembly. We are little more than tools to them.”

“They asked very few questions about us,” Astrid contributed. “They seem to think us ignorant of politics.”

“Only members of the Assembly were interested in what we were capable of, as they were familiar with your skills,” Eodwulf said. “It seemed an intellectual curiosity more than anything.”

Again, Trent nodded, digesting the information but offering no clue as to his thoughts. They rode in silence for the last few minutes, and he only spoke when they finally stopped.

“Your graduation is nearly upon you,” Trent said as they departed the carriage, making their way back to the house. “I know you will not fail me.”

Caleb knew it too. He worried once, about what they were doing. There was no doubt in his mind now, not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Quite a diversion from my usual g-rated character studies, eh?
> 
> Trying to balance what was obviously a horrible situation with how Caleb diminishes it, and how Liam has said Caleb doesn't think it was _all_ that bad, was a fascinating exercise.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at lorettafryingpan/djinn-and-djuice, come say hey! I have a lot of thoughts about the Blumenthal kids, and I'd love to talk about them with you.


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